Maybe he's teasing, but only a bit, only in the finest way possible. Even her giggle doesn't shake him; he responds with a low, purposeful hum right against her, and he keeps about his business. Lucky her, he always takes direction well, all the more so when he's so invested in his task. In all things he's a believer that anything worth doing is worth doing right; and so, he's relentlessly thorough, focused on each reaction he draws, every directive she gasps, rewarded by the roll of her hips, her muffled cries.

He straightens and stretches as she lets herself sink back against the bed, taking a moment to feel a bit smug, heart still racing in time with hers before she beckons him. The clothing will need a little more hinting but she'll find him utterly obliging; it's not as though they have any reason to be bashful. It takes him a moment to haul himself up beside her; his knees are a little stiff from being folded, but he's got no complaints.

This is mainly because, stretched languorous and smiling beside him, Carol doesn't seem to have any, either.